Erica
I wore the slutty dress.
And even went as far as to wear that stupid, blinking diamond bracelet. It was beautiful on my wrist but I would never admit it. For some reason that beautiful thing didn’t feel like an expensive jewellery it was, but a shackle from Antonio Rossi. Either way, I wore it and the thing I loved the most of my whole attire wasn’t designer dress with fabric less than a handkerchief or the delicate cream colored thong underneath it or the diamond bracelet, it was the pair of shoes that I was wearing on my feet under the dress that looked fit to walk on the red carpet. I
I descended the stairs making my way to the dining room where I hadn’t had the dinner yesterday because a certain arsehole had made it difficult for me, by pushing my mind somewhere that I didn’t
